Force of Nature
by CaroH
Summary: Set in Season 3. The Seine is rising and the Musketeers find themselves in a fight for their lives.
1. Chapter 1

The recent stories of flooding in Paris inspired this story. It is set in Season 3 but will contain no mention of Sylvie because I am trying to pretend she doesn't exist! This is also an effort to overcome writer's block. I have hit a brick wall with Through Darker Days.

 **Force of Nature**

 **Chapter One**

"When is this rain going to let up?" D'Artagnan untied his cloak and shook out the water. His hair was plastered to his head and water dripped steadily into his eyes.

Athos had to admit that the young man looked a pathetic sight. His cloak hadn't protected him from the torrential rain that had been battering the city for almost a week. He poured a glass of wine and pushed it towards his friend. "Drink this. It will warm you up."

The fire in the refectory was blazing but even so it couldn't compete with the damp cold which seemed to have permeated every corner of the room. The cadets sat huddled miserably around tables eating the chicken stew that Constance had served for their dinner.

Aramis rose from his chair and wandered over to the hearth where the stew pot sat to keep warm and ladled out a bowlful for the new arrival. D'Artagnan nodded his thanks when it was set in front of him.

"The streets are almost empty. Anyone with any sense is indoors," he reported. "I saw a few Red Guards. They looked miserable." A wicked smile lit up his face. "At least the weather is stopping them from terrorising innocent people."

"I bet Marcheaux wasn't among them," Porthos said. "That man has a knack for avoiding doing any hard work."

"I'm sure you're right, my friend. I've noticed how he manages to keep out of fights. He's always just skulking on the edges." Aramis tore off a piece of bread and mopped up the gravy from his dinner.

"The man's a disgrace but he seems to have found favour with Governor Feron." Athos moodily looked into his wine glass.

"Constance tells me they used to pick fights with the cadets until she and the Minister put a stop to it. They would come home all battered and bruised."

Athos looked around the room. "Then it appears our young charges need to either learn some common sense or improve their fighting skills. I won't have the regiment embarrassed, particularly in front of the Red Guard."

"Don't be too hard on them. They're only young."

"They're Musketeer cadets, Aramis. They need to learn to uphold the reputation of the regiment. Feron already looks down on us. You saw how he acted the day we returned to Paris."

"He isn't happy because he can't control us," Porthos said.

"That's true." D'Artagnan finished his meal and sat back with a contented sigh. Rain water still ran down the back of his neck but at least he was now warm and full. "In some ways I think he's worse than Rochefort and Richelieu combined."

"I don't disagree. At least the Cardinal had France's best interests at heart and Rochefort mostly left the ordinary people alone." Athos would never forget the disdain with which they were greeted by the Governor. The insinuation that they were too old and worn out to be of any use was a direct slap in the face after all they had endured for four years. He was still having a hard time coming to terms with the deterioration in the city under Feron's stewardship. Hunger and unrest were everywhere and the Red Guard were more vicious than they had ever been in the past. There had been numerous occasions over the past few weeks when the Musketeers had been forced to intervene on seeing acts of brutality from the very men who should have been keeping the people safe. Then there was Lucien Grimaud, a shadowy figure whose long reach seemed to touch every quarter of the city. All their efforts to find the man had been frustrated by fear and silence.

"You're broodin' again," Porthos said.

He raised his glass in acknowledgment. Athos knew that the others thought he had an unhealthy obsession with Grimaud but he couldn't shake the belief that there was something nefarious at work that had the potential to bring down the monarchy. Fortunately, Gaston was safely locked away thus neutralising one threat. If anything were to happen to the Dauphin, he would become heir to the throne and that was almost unthinkable. Louis might not be the most compassionate of rulers but Gaston had inherited his lust for power from his mother, Marie de Medici, and would make a terrible King.

The door opened and Brujon entered. He had been on sentry duty at the front gate so Athos sat up straighter, anticipating trouble.

"Captain." Brujon hurried over to the table. "Message from the Palace, Sir." He held out a letter which Athos took from him. "Thank you, Cadet. Return to your post."

Brujon drew himself up to attention before leaving them.

Athos studied the writing on the front of the letter. "It's from Treville." He turned it over and broke the seal, reading quickly. "He wants to see me."

"Does he say why?" d'Artagnan asked.

"No. Only that it's urgent." He stood up, regretting the summons and the fact that he'd have to venture out into the wild weather. "I will be back as soon as I can."

"Do you want company?" Aramis asked.

Athos shook his head and smiled wryly. "I think one of use drowning in this rain is enough."

He returned to his quarters to retrieve his weapons, cloak and hat before making his way to the stables. The wind snatched at his cloak, swirling it around his body. He was soaked before he had crossed the yard, the rain blowing violently into his face.

It was an uncomfortable ride to the palace, with his horse shying away from the wind and rain and the streets running with water. When he arrived he handed his horse over to a groom and ducked inside, removing his hat to shake off the water. The palace corridors were unusually busy with servants scurrying around carrying boxes and baskets. He stood for a moment watching the barely controlled chaos and frowning.

When he reached the Minister's office he found Treville packing up rolls of parchment. The shelves where they were usually stored looking surprisingly bare.

"What's happening?"

"Ah, Athos, good. We're getting ready to evacuate the Louvre."

"Why?"

"Have you looked at the Seine recently?"

"The Seine?" Comprehension followed quickly. "Flooding."

"Yes. It is cresting and likely to burst its banks. The palace is no longer safe. Everything is being moved from the cellars to higher ground but there is a real possibility that water will invade the main floor. We are moving the Royal family to Fontainebleau until it is safe to return."

"You want us to escort the King and Queen?"

"No. I want you to guard the palace while we're gone. The people are starving and a heartbeat away from rioting. If they find out the palace has been abandoned who knows what they might do."

"Wouldn't it be better to leave the Red Guard here?"

"Unfortunately the Marquis de Feron is in charge and he has decreed that the Musketeers are to remain here."

"I don't like this."

"Neither do I," Treville admitted. "However, there is nothing we can do. The King listens to Feron."

"Very well. I'll gather the cadets. When does the King leave?"

"First thing tomorrow. Be here at dawn. The river is due to reach its peak tomorrow night."

"We'll be here. Is that all?"

"Be careful, Athos. I have a bad feeling about this. The city is on the verge of insurrection and the garrison is stretched thin."

"You can rely on us, Minister." As Athos made his way back to his horse he wondered how he was going to keep his word to Treville. With four experienced Musketeers and a handful of cadets they would be hard pressed to guard all the entrances to the Louvre and, if they were attacked, it would be nearly impossible to protect themselves and the palace.

TMTMTM

"The King's leaving Paris." Feron began to relax as the opium did its works. His chambers were in chaos as servants hurried to pack his trunks ready for the exodus.

"Running away from his responsibilities again," Grimaud said. He stood in the shadows by the window watching the rain hammering on the glass.

"Giving you an opportunity." Feron gestured to the servants to leave, waiting until the door closed behind them. "There are many priceless objects in the Louvre which could be sold to finance our venture."

Grimaud walked forward into the circle of light cast by the candles. "The palace won't be left unprotected."

"No. However, I am feeling generous and have arranged a gift for you."

"What are you talking about?" Grimaud had no patience for Feron's obliqueness. He was a plain spoken man who preferred to get to the point quickly.

"The Musketeers are to stay in Paris and guard the palace. This is your chance to rid us of Athos, Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan. Oh, and a few of those pesky cadets as well. They're becoming as troublesome as their masters."

Grimaud bared his teeth in an unpleasant smile. "They won't see us coming. Finally, it will be their day to die and we'll have free rein again."

"They won't be easily overcome," Feron warned. "They are war heroes after all." His tone dripped with sarcasm.

"Aramis isn't. He was hidden in a monastery for four years. He's their weak link."

"Don't underestimate him. He was a soldier for many years before he became a monk. Instincts like that don't disappear."

"Maybe not, but he isn't as quick as he used to be. Besides, we'll overwhelm them with numbers. When does the King leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. I suggest you wait until nightfall to attack."

"Leave it to me. By the time you return to Paris Athos and his friends will be dead."

Tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Force of Nature**

 **Chapter Two**

They mustered just before dawn. During the night there had been no respite from the wind and rain so they were all quickly soaked to the skin and shivering. Athos left two cadets to guard the garrison, departing with three Musketeers and twelve cadets. He knew they had a herculean task ahead of them. Even with fully fledged Musketeers it would be difficult. With half-trained boys it was next to impossible.

Evidence of flooding was everywhere during their journey. Many people were brushing water out of their homes in a futile effort to preserve them. They barely looked up as the Musketeers passed by, being fully occupied battling what was turning into a real force of nature.

A line of wagons and carriages waited outside the main entrance to the Louvre. The Queen and Dauphin were standing just inside the main doorway looking out at the storm. Athos and the others bowed and were acknowledged with a tired smile from the Queen.

"I hear you and your men are to guard the palace."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"I will miss my Musketeer escort."

Her eyes flickered to the side and Athos knew she was looking at Aramis. He suppressed the urge to sigh. Four years apart appeared to have done nothing to lessen the attraction. "Captain Marcheaux and his men will keep you safe." His reassurances sounded hollow to him. Marcheaux was a bully and a coward and his men weren't much better.

"I know they will, Captain."

Treville hurried down a hallway to greet them. He looked them over critically but could hardly take issue with their bedraggled appearance. "All sensitive papers have been removed. Your job is to protect the art work and furnishings."

Athos inclined his head. "I understand."

Treville moved closer and lowered his voice. "Hopefully there won't be any trouble. The people will have other concerns if the Seine bursts its banks."

"There is already flooding in the streets. The clean up when this is all over will be extensive. I would like the Musketeers to help as much as possible. Show the townsfolk that someone cares about their welfare."

The Minister frowned at the implied rebuke. "The King is much distracted by the war."

"I meant no disrespect to His Majesty. My remarks pertained to Governor Feron and the Red Guard."

"Stay out of politics, Athos. I will handle Feron."

There was a commotion at the bottom of the staircase as the King and the Marquis de Feron descended. Feron moved slowly, leaning heavily on his stick and the King kept pace with him looking concerned.

"Are you sure you're well enough to undertake this journey, Philippe?"

"It will be difficult, Sire, but I will endure."

"You should stay here. There will be servants who can look after you."

"My place is at your side."

"Not at the expense of your health."

Feron was clearly in great pain but it was the King who commanded Athos' attention. Louis looked less than well, appearing pale and subdued. Athos put it down to the strain of potentially watching the palace flood. It was well known that this was Louis' favourite residence. His thoughts turned to the thousands of other people who would be in a similar predicament, none of whom had the luxury of packing up and moving.

The King and Governor reached the ground floor and Louis reached over to pat Feron on the arm. "Stay here, Philippe. We will manage without you, although you will be missed."

"As you wish. Safe journey."

Athos could see the relief on Feron's face and also a hint of something he didn't recognise. The two men locked eyes for a few seconds before Feron turned away with a tight smile. Athos gestured to his men to stand back as Treville held out an arm to the Queen.

"Let me escort you to your carriage, Majesty."

The Queen gave a gracious nod and took hold of the Dauphin's hand. Once she and her son were settled the King bade Treville join him in his carriage. Athos walked outside, sheltering under the portico and watching the Red Guard take their positions. He caught Marcheaux's eye briefly, noting with irritation the smug look the Captain gave him. The Red Guard had been given the honour of protecting the King while the Musketeers were left guarding an almost empty palace. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

Once the convoy had gone Athos looked around at his men. "Porthos. Aramis. Stay here. The rest of you come with me."

There were numerous entrances to the Louvre and Athos didn't have enough men to guard them all. That meant he would need a mobile patrol as well. He paired up the cadets, leaving them at strategic points throughout the building. Then, with d'Artagnan by his side, he began the laborious task of walking around the vast edifice, checking the other doors.

"I still don't understand why the Red Guard weren't given this task," d'Artagnan said as they took a short cut through the throne room.

"I suspect it was Feron's doing."

The windows rattled in their frames as they were battered by the wind and rain.

"I don't imagine many people will even realise the King has left."

"There are always those who find a way to take advantage of a disaster."

"You're thinking about Grimaud again."

Athos glanced at his companion. "He has already tried to break into the vault. How much easier would it be to steal from an empty palace?"

"Not entirely empty. Many of the servants were left behind and Feron is still here."

"The servants would not risk their lives and it wouldn't surprise me if Feron were in league with Grimaud."

"This obsession isn't healthy, Athos. We only have rumours that Grimaud is involved in the various criminal enterprises that seem to be plaguing the city. We barely even know what he looks like. Porthos only got a glimpse of him at the funeral for the soldiers Gaston killed."

"Yet his name keeps cropping up. This is a dangerous man, d'Artagnan. He might live in the shadows but his reach is felt everywhere."

They were approaching the main entrance where they had left Porthos and Aramis. The marksman turned quickly, his pistol raised when he heard their footsteps. He lowered it with a grimace.

"Next time announce yourselves," he groused.

"Aramis is feelin' jumpy," Porthos said with a grin.

"I am not! I am merely on my guard."

Athos peered outside. It was impossible to see more than a couple of feet in front of him. They could be overrun before even realising that an enemy was there. "Just don't get complacent," he warned. "We have a long day ahead of us."

TMTMTM

Grimaud stood under the inadequate shelter of an ancient oak tree, his gaze directed toward the palace. He could barely make out the outline of the building through the driving rain. He pulled his cloak tighter around his body before catching hold of his hood when a gust of wind threated to blow it from his head. His men were waiting for him at a nearby tavern and he knew he should get out of the ferocious weather in order to give them their instructions. Still he stood, staring ahead and wondering what Athos was doing. He had watched the Musketeers arrive, counting them carefully. Sixteen men. No, he corrected himself, four men and twelve boys. He had thirty-five seasoned fighters. Some had served in the army only to desert when they realised they were nothing more than cannon fodder. Others had made their reputations on the streets. Each one had been promised a bounty for every Musketeer and cadet killed or seriously maimed.

He had made it his business to learn the whereabouts of every entrance to the building. There were fifteen access points in all. He didn't think Athos would split his men up that much which meant that some would be unguarded. If they could identify which he could sneak men inside to get behind the Musketeer lines. Would Athos anticipate an attack from inside the building? He wasn't willing to underestimate the Captain having seen him fight outside Douai. The man was an expert in the art of war and that was what this was. A war. One that Grimaud was determined to win.

The conflict with Spain had made him rich. Feron's failing body had given him power. The Governor relied on him for the opium that alleviated his suffering. But, more than that, he had become a confidante and advisor. To have the power to direct the Governor of Paris was intoxicating. It had brought him wealth and infamy. He was the true ruler of the city. All had been going so well until he encountered the Musketeers in the monastery. They had deprived him of a handsome payday from the Spanish and he wasn't going to forgive them for that. Since their return to the city they had thwarted him on more than one occasion. Their interference had to be brought to an end and, today, that was exactly what was going to happen.

Tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Force of Nature**

 **Chapter Three**

The weather granted them no reprieve. When Athos looked out of a window at noon it was as dark as it had been when they left the garrison before dawn. Rain pounded against the glass, driven headlong by the fierce winds that still howled around the building. During the course of the morning he had rotated his men, pairing Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan each with a cadet. Brujon had been tasked with making the rounds of the building while Athos snatched a few minutes for quiet contemplation.

He remained convinced that there would be an attack. The treasures of the palace were too valuable to be ignored by Grimaud. It was frustrating to have to contend with a faceless enemy. So far they had been able to learn very little about the man. The mere mention of his name was enough to have people stammering and claiming ignorance. Whoever he was, and wherever he came from, his reach was long and brutal.

With a heavy sigh he made his way towards the kitchens, intent upon securing sustenance for his beleaguered troops. He was passing the bottom of the main staircase when he was hailed by a servant.

"Captain. The Governor has sent for you."

The last thing Athos needed was to waste his time with Feron. "Send him my apologies. I have urgent matters to attend to."

"Begging your pardon, Sir, but he said it's an order."

Much though he might wish it Athos couldn't ignore a direct order from the Governor of Paris. "As he wishes. Can you see that the Musketeers receive food and drink?"

"Of course, Sir."

With a nod of thanks Athos climbed the stairs, making his way along numerous hallways until he reached Feron's suite. He knocked and waited to be invited to enter. The room was cold, the fire having died out. Feron lounged in a high backed chair swathed in furs.

"Ah, Captain, there you are."

Athos stood to attention and waited with ill-concealed impatience for Feron to get to the point. There was an odd aroma permeating the room and it took a minute for Athos to recognise it. One eyebrow rose fractionally when he identified it as opium. He looked speculatively at the Governor. It was no secret that Feron suffered from a serious disease which affected his back, making it painful for him to walk. Clearly he was taking opium as a means of controlling that pain. He knew from experience how badly laudanum could affect the mind. How much more potent would raw opium be? He noticed that the Governor's eyes were heavy lidded and that he was sprawled almost bonelessly in his chair.

"I wanted your opinion on the security of the Louvre," Feron continued, a slight slurring evident in his voice.

"It is inadequate, but I'm sure you already knew that."

"You are insubordinate, Captain."

"It would have been more effective to keep the Red Guard in Paris and allow the Musketeers to accompany the King. The regiment is depleted by the war and there has been insufficient time to recruit more men."

"I was given to understand by Treville that you and your companions are war heroes. Surely guarding an empty palace isn't beyond your capabilities?" Feron spoke with derision, watching Athos closely for any adverse reaction.

"Porthos, d'Artagnan and I served at the front. We did our duty and do not consider ourselves to be war heroes. However, we are seasoned warriors. Aramis, although he left us for a time, is no less skilled."

"What of your boys?"

Reminding himself that Feron was Governor of Paris and the King's half-brother allowed Athos to keep his composure. "They are Musketeer cadets and all have shown promise that one day they will be commissioned. If trouble comes they will acquit themselves well."

"I'm glad to hear it. We wouldn't want a mob rampaging through the building."

"You sound as if you are expecting an attack."

"Not at all. I merely want to assure myself that you have the security arrangements in hand."

"Insofar as that is possible with the number of men at my disposal."

"Thank you, Captain." Feron waved a hand languidly in the direction of the door. "Don't let me keep you from your duties."

With gritted teeth Athos bowed and left the room. He returned to the main entrance where Aramis and Claremont stood guard. Each held a mug of soup and a chunk of bread. Aramis grinned when he saw him.

"The doors are secure and there's no sign of trouble. A couple of the servants brought the food a few minutes ago. If you hurry you should be able to catch up with them."

"I'm not hungry. Claremont, find Brujon and get me a report from each of the guard stations."

Claremont drained his soup quickly. "Yes, Sir."

Aramis split the bread in half and held some out to Athos. "You need to eat."

Athos accepted the gesture but made no move to bite into the bread. "The river will be cresting in a few hours. If there is going to be an attack that's when it will happen."

"If it comes we'll be ready."

"Are the cadets ready?" Athos looked to his friend for reassurance.

"They are a talented group of young men. You've seen them spar with d'Artagnan and I've assessed their competence with a pistol. They don't lack for courage either. Each one of them will make a fine Musketeer in time."

"They're so young."

"You have ordered men into battle before. What is it that disturbs you?"

Athos pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes while he considered the question. "I can't help feeling that we have been set up to fail."

"By Feron? Surely you don't suspect him of being in league with Grimaud?"

"We have seen stranger alliances before."

"Where would be the benefit for Feron? He has all the power he could possibly desire and, if he is in need of some mindless thugs he only has to look to the Red Guard."

A brief flicker of a smile crossed Athos' face. "That is true. However, Grimaud is no ordinary thug. He has influence and connections. I'm convinced he was behind the theft of the grain and, according to Treville, Feron was only too eager to arrange financing so that more grain could be imported."

"Which was for the benefit of the people of Paris. You see conspiracies where there are none, my friend."

"Perhaps." Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a connection between Feron and Grimaud, irrational though that might be.

TMTMTM

Grimaud entered the tavern where his men were waiting for him. There was immediate silence when he walked in with his head held high and a sardonic smile on his lips. He walked over to one of the tables and unrolled the parchment he was carrying.

"Come here."

They immediately clustered around him, looking down at the plan of the palace. Most of them, he knew, couldn't read but that would be no impediment to his plans.

"Pay attention. There are the entrances to the building." He rapidly moved his finger from one point to another indicating the points of ingress. "They are guarded by four Musketeers and twelve raw recruits. Easy prey. Remember, though, that the Captain is mine." He paused to savour the thought of victory. He would bring Athos to his knees before he killed him. As for the others, well, they would be no match for his men. "The river continues to rise. Already there is flooding in the streets. It is only a matter of time before water enters the Louvre. When that happens the Musketeers will be distracted and we will strike. If you find an unguarded door use it to get behind their lines. We will attack on two fronts and they will be powerless to stop us."

"What happens after we kill them?"

"Take anything of value that you can find. We have an army to raise and that takes money." He gave only a fleeting thought to Gaston who would be their figurehead. The Prince presently languished in the Bastille, out of favour with the King. He had Feron's assurance that he could facilitate Gaston's escape at any time so the Prince could stay where he was until he was needed. "Any other questions?" He waited a few moments. "Good. Three of you to each entrance. Sort it out between yourselves."

He left them and walked over to the bar where a tankard of ale was quickly laid in front of him. He silently toasted his impending victory and imagined riding into Paris at the head of an army. The boy from the gutter had grown to be a man of means and ambition. Soon he would have his reward.

Tbc


	4. Chapter 4

**Force of Nature**

 **Chapter Four**

As the afternoon waned Athos send Brujon to fetch Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan. They joined him in the main foyer, each with an expectant look.

"When the attack comes we can't hope to hold every entrance. Our only chance is to draw them in to a central point."

"You are convinced there will be an attack?" Aramis asked.

"Yes, and Grimaud won't stop until we are all dead."

"Where do we make our stand?" d'Artagnan asked.

Athos gestured around him. "This area gives us the greatest freedom of movement. Aramis can get to higher ground on the stairs and take out at least three of our opponents." He looked to Aramis for confirmation.

The marksman, armed with two pistols and his musket, grinned in return. "If you can spare me a cadet to reload I can do better than that."

"Take Gilbert. He's the fastest in the Regiment, after you of course. The rest of us will provide protection. Pass the word to the cadets and understand that I don't want any foolish heroics." He looked pointedly at d'Artagnan who had taken more than his share of risks during their time at the front.

"Understood, Captain," d'Artagnan said with such feigned innocence that Athos sighed in despair.

"We will take out as many as we can and the rest will lose heart."

"Why're you so convinced it's Grimaud?" Porthos asked.

"He's been a thorn in our side since we returned to Paris. I'm convinced that he was involved in the theft of the grain. Then he appeared at the soldiers' funerals although he's always careful to keep to the edge of the crowd. He's like a spider lurking in his web and waiting for opportunity to strike."

"What is his motivation?" Aramis asked.

"Money. Power. What do men like him usually want? Who knows who he has allied himself with. Feron? Marcheaux?" He saw the skeptical looks passing between his friends. "Our return has made his life difficult. This is an obvious opportunity to get rid of us."

"They he'll be disappointed," Porthos said. "The cadets are ready. He won't find us to be an easy mark."

Athos gave a half-smile in deference to Porthos' passion. "Return to your posts, my friends. I fear the storm will be upon us soon."

He watched them leave with a heavy heart. He would be happy to be proved wrong but, deep in his soul, he knew Grimaud would come.

TMTMTM

There was no warning. One minute everything was quiet; the next water was rushing into the building. The force of it took Athos by surprise. It was as if he was standing in the middle of a fast flowing river. Everything in its way was swept aside. Within seconds he was standing calf deep in freezing, foul smelling water. Chairs, tables, ornaments, none were a match for the ferocity of the river. Athos clumsily lurched to one side to avoid being mown down by floating furniture. The tiled floor became treacherous, boding ill for any sword play.

He caught the terrified look from the young cadet standing guard with him, but before he could offer any words of comfort the windows on either side of the door shattered. Explosive devices were thrown through but their fuses must have been cut too long because they fell into the water without detonating. Athos let out a shaky breath before drawing his pistol and rapier.

"Remember your training, Auguste," he said. He heard gunfire and explosions in the distance and a pounding at the locked door in front of him. "You will be alright. You are surrounded by your brothers. Never forget that."

Auguste nodded and drew his weapons just as the door burst open. Two shots rang out and two of the bandits fell, one dead and one clutching his shoulder. Athos lunged forward, his sword piercing the chest of the injured man, ending his life.

"Fall back," he yelled.

His legs were going numb from the cold. His only consolation was that their attackers were also having to contend with the difficult conditions. Cadets started to arrive from both directions, each group being pursued by a larger number of foes. Athos formed them into a ragged line at the foot of the stairs. There was a shot and one of the cadets fell face first into the raging torrent. A horrified cry left Athos' lips. Even after four years of war he still felt every loss.

He was quickly engaged in a deadly duel. None of his skillful footwork would avail him. The water was up to his knees and still rising. He hadn't yet seen Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan but couldn't afford to let worry take hold. A second opponent joined the fray but he was unskilled with a sword. Athos dispatched him quickly at the price of receiving a cut across his left arm. He caught a glimpse of Aramis slogging through the water with his musket held above his head to keep it dry. There was no sign of Gilbert and none of the other cadets were in a position to help.

Moments later there was a single shot from behind him and a body disappeared below the water. He began to gain the upper hand and slid his sword into his opponent's belly. It wasn't a clean kill and the man gave an agonized cry as he dropped to his knees. The powerful tide quickly unbalanced him and he was swept away. Athos looked round towards the stairs where Aramis had taken up his position. There was movement on the landing and then a man appeared on the top step.

"Aramis! Behind you," he yelled.

Aramis immediately spun round and fired. The man fell, rolling inelegantly down the stairs. The marksman placed his hand over his heart and bowed to Athos.

Athos, with a sixth sense born of many years' experience swung round in time to parry a blow that would have severed his spine if it had connected. As he fought he finally saw d'Artagnan who waded through the water to stand back to back with him.

It was impossible to tell who was prevailing. There was another shot from Aramis before he drew his sword and entered the fray. Having finished off his latest opponent Athos moved to intercept one of the two men attacking Brujon. A couple of bodies floated past and Athos was heart-broken to see that one was Auguste. There was no time to grieve, however. He increased the ferocity of his blows, easily overcoming his less skilled opponent.

He caught a glimpse of a hooded and cloaked figure lurking at the edge of the battleground. "Grimaud," he shouted, pushing his way through the water. The current almost knocked him off his feet. When he regained his balance he found that Grimaud was gone. "Get to higher ground."

Musketeers started to retreat towards the stairs. Many of the attackers had clearly had enough and were heading for the doors. Athos reached the bottom step and forced his leaden limbs to carry him up three steps and out of the water. With a clear view he could see isolated battled but there was no doubt in his mind that they were winning. The remaining bandits disengaged.

"Let them go," he instructed.

Soon only Musketeers were left to survey the scene. He counted heads. Porthos, Aramis and d'Artagnan were all accounted for but only ten of the cadets. Of those, two were injured but still upright and one was lying on a step with Aramis beside him. Athos caught Aramis' eye and the marksman shook his head.

"Porthos. D'Artagnan. We lost two. Find their bodies." He knew he was sending his friends back into the frigid water but couldn't bear the thought of the bodies drifting aimlessly in the fetid water. He sat down heavily and contemplated the senseless brutality of war.

TMTMTM

Several hours passed before the waters began to recede. They had lost another man and Aramis had tended to the wounded. The main floor was covered in a noxious sludge that would take many days to remove. Servants had gradually emerged from their hiding places, brining warmed wine to the exhausted Musketeers.

Aramis came to sit by Athos. "Was it Grimaud?"

"Yes. He kept his face in shadow so we are no closer to identifying him."

"We'll find him."

"What damage will he do before then?"

Aramis shook his head, having no answer.

As Athos sipped his wine and warmth returned to his body, he knew that the Musketeers and Grimaud would cross paths again.

The End


End file.
